


Never Too Old for Presents

by jailikechai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jailikechai/pseuds/jailikechai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what do you want for your birthday?”<br/>Castiel’s head tilts just a little to one side as he blinks his bright blue eyes at Dean.<br/>“What?”<br/>“C’mon you gotta want something. And don’t give me any of that ‘I’m too old for presents’ crap.”<br/>Castiel looks at Dean and knows exactly what he wants. He drains his glass of whiskey instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Too Old for Presents

**Author's Note:**

> It's my friend's birthday, and if he finds out I wrote this for him, the teasing will be merciless.

“Here’s to being young and pretty!” Dean lifts his glass towards Castiel, his face tinted a strange orange color from the neon lights above the bar. Cas lifts his own glass and taps it to Dean’s with a decidedly un-musical clink.

“To youth and beauty,” he agrees, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Got that right,” Dean winks at him and tosses the contents of his glass down his throat in one quick, smooth swallow. Cas watches his throat work while taking a sip from his own glass. Dean wipes a stray drop of liquid from his lips and levels his gaze on Castiel.

“So how’s it feel to be one step closer to the grave, old man?” Dean asks. Castiel’s eyebrows draw together.

“That’s rather morbid, Dean.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and signals the bartender for another round.

“It’s a joke, Cas.” The bartender slides a pair of freshly filled glasses across the smooth, wood surface of the bar and into Dean’s hands.  Dean taps the side of the half-full glass still in Castiel’s hands. “Stop babysitting, we’re supposed to be celebrating!”

Cas wrinkles his nose at the bitter scent of whiskey, but obediently empties his glass. Dean grins and pats his shoulder.

“My man. You can probably drink twice as much as me, so you can’t fall behind. Maybe we should start doing two-to-one.”

Cas snorts.

“Seeing as how I do not desire to spend my birthday either being carried home by you when I get too drunk, or having to carry you home after you pass out, I think it would be prudent to drink in moderation. Besides, we both have to work tomorrow,” Cas points out.

“You’re getting old,” Dean teases, a wicked smile lighting up his face.

“As you said,” Cas rolls his eyes.

“Maybe soon you’ll be old enough that the way you talk won’t even sound so weird anymore.”

“One’s language skills do tend to develop as they mature, as I’m sure you’ll discover eventually.”

Castiel’s face stays perfectly deadpan as Dean stares at him blankly for a few seconds. Cas watches how the orangey lights create flickers of gold in the green of Dean’s eyes. The creases around Dean’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, a betrayal of his own years.

“Nice, Cas. Now, drink up.”

Both men grab their glasses and empty them in one long, burning swallow. Dean bangs his glass back down into the bar as he gasps for air. He runs his tongue lightly over his lips. Castiel sets his glass back down more sedately as he watches his companion.

Dean’s face softens minutely into something inexplicably fond when his eyes catch Castiel’s. Cas feels his own face begin to heat as Dean silently runs his eyes over him, as if searching for something. He wants to look away, but doesn’t, just stares back at Dean’s familiar face, highlighted and shadowed by the weird bar lighting.

“So,” Dean’s tongue darts out to wet his lips again, “what’d you get for your birthday?”

Castiel shrugs and waves the bartender down once again.

“Nothing. I do not typically celebrate my birthday. I’m surprised you even remembered it, to be honest.”

Dean gawks at him.

“Wha? Dude, birthdays are the one day a year that you can throw a party and demand presents for yourself and no one even looks twice at you! How can you not take advantage of that? And ‘course I remembered your birthday, you dork, it’s the day I met you.” The flush of pink that tinges Dean’s cheeks at the admission makes his freckles stand out, even in the low light. 

“So it is also our anniversary of sorts,” Castiel says, his own eyes lighting up with the memory of that day exactly one year ago. 

Last year’s Castiel had been lonely and frustrated and very, very drunk when he started a fight with a tall, broad-shouldered stranger in a grimy dive bar at the edge of town. Cas broke the man’s nose. Then he called a cab and took him to the hospital. The man had laughed at his profuse apologies, his green eyes sparkling even with his face sticky with his own blood. When he found out it was Castiel’s birthday he insisted on taking him out for another drink after having his nose set. They escaped from the hospital and spent the rest of the night stumbling through the streets with their arms slung around each other until Dean was singing the wrong words to off-key rock songs and Castiel was actually smiling.

After that they had met up a few times for drinks, nothing as over-the-top as the first night, but still fun. Then the every-once-in-a-while drinks became a regular weekly appointment. Then the weekly drinks became lunches, and dinners, and occasional weekends hanging out together. And now, a year later, here they are. Dean, just as bright and loud and full of life as ever, and Castiel, no longer alone, eternally grateful for Dean’s presence in his life and desperately afraid to lose it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck and smiles at Castiel.

“Yeah, guess it is. So what do you want for your birthday?”

Castiel’s head tilts just a little to one side as he blinks his bright blue eyes at Dean.

“What?”

“C’mon you gotta want something. And don’t give me any of that ‘I’m too old for presents’ crap.”

Castiel looks at Dean and knows exactly what he wants. He drains his glass of whiskey instead. Dean punches his shoulder companionably.

“Come on, Cas, spill. I can see the gears turning in your brain,” Dean persists. The alcohol is beginning to mingle with Cas’s blood, making his head fuzzy and brave.

“I think I’d like a kiss,” Cas says, a tentative smile playing at his lips. Dean scoffs.

“That’s it? Geez, you’re so easy. Don't even have to go shopping.” Dean waves a hand around the bar. “See anyone you like? That chick over by the register was checking you out earlier. It’ll be easy as pie to snag a kiss with a face like yours, angel.”

Castiel’s face burns. He’s glad his skin doesn’t flush red as easily as Dean’s.

“Well,” he stammers uncertainly, “since it’s also our anniversary, I thought maybe…  you … could kiss me?”

Dean turns his megawatt smile on full blast.

“Even easier. Are we talking quick peck on the cheek, holing up in the men’s bathroom to make out for a while, or something in between?” 

Castiel’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyes blown wide as he stares at Dean. Dean struggles to keep his expression earnest. He doesn’t last long, chuckling and shaking his head at Cas’s stunned speechlessness and moves in close.

“Calm down, Cas, I’m just messing with you,” Dean says quietly, so close that Cas can feel the breath of his words on his cheek. Castiel looks hopefully into his eyes, mere inches away, close enough that the neon orange light no longer muddies the clear green color.

Dean kisses him gently, sweetly, sliding his hand around the back of Cas’s neck and tangling his fingers in his hair. Castiel’s eyes fall shut as he responds, parting his lips and sliding his hands over Dean’s shoulders. Dean tastes like light, and life, and love, and all the things that he’s brought into Castiel’s life over the past year. 

They break apart, and Dean leans his forehead onto Cas’s their whiskey-tinged breath mingling between them.

“Please tell me that wasn’t just a birthday thing, because I don’t think I can wait another year to do that again,” Dean pleads.

Castiel smiles, the way he was never able to do before Dean, a smile that starts in his belly and spills out of him, all teeth and gums and squinty eyes. He’ll have laugh lines like Dean’s soon enough. Even better is the way Dean looks at him, like Castiel’s smile is the eighth wonder of the world, too amazing to look away.

“Then don’t,” Castiel breathes, and presses his lips to Dean’s. Dean makes a small, pleased noise, pulling Cas in closer, deepening the kiss with his tongue.

A small cough from the bartender prompts them to pull away from each other with sheepish grins.

“Happy Birthday, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

 


End file.
